Don't Be A Stranger
by ztast
Summary: Pete visits Clark after Legion. AU FIC.


Title: Don't Be A Stranger

Author: ztast

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or any of the character's within this story.

* * *

The glow from the green meteorite lights up the dark room for him, in the Christmas light green he can see Clark lying in bed under the comforter Martha Kent made almost fifteen years ago. The same green glow shows the moment when the meteorite starts to affect Clark. First Clark shifts on the bed, mumbling incoherently, but as the rock comes closer Clark begins to sweat. It's only when he places the meteor on Clark's deeply heaving chest that Clark startles awake, too weak though to do anything but stare at the rock in horror and pain. Clark writhes in agony for long moments before he looked up and saw who placed the fist-sized piece of poisoned home on him.

"Pete?"

The way Clark says his name makes Clark sounds so young and Pete almost feels something besides cold, inconsolable rage when he sees the expression of confusion on Clark's face. He remembers when he first met Clark Kent, remembers how friendly Clark's smile was compared to the other kids at school. Clark, tall even back then, but skinny as a pole, invited Pete to come to the farm after school where Mrs. Kent had freshly baked cookies waiting. They had been friends ever since.

"What did you do to her?" Pete asked, his voice is hard like stone. He tries not to think about Mrs. Kent's delicious chocolate chip cookies.

Clark grimaced, his face a green mask of pain. Pete gave him a moment to think about the answer. Then Pete gives him a minute that stretches into a five. Just before Clark passes out Pete picks up the rock and hauls it away, but not too far. Clark recovers enough that he stops wheezing, but sweat still rolled down his face like he's lying face up in a rainstorm.

"It hurts," Clark said as though Pete doesn't already know it hurts. As though Pete's maybe torturing him out of ignorance.

"What did you do to Chloe?" Pete asked using her name this time because now he wants an answer out of Clark.

"N-nothing! I didn't do anything to Chloe!" Clark replied.

Pete set the rock back on Clark's heaving chest causing Clark to snap his eyes close and choke. Pete switches on the lamp next to the bed and then looks around for a chair. He finds an old rocking chair in a corner and pulls it up to the bed. From the chair he watches Clark suffer. The lamp allows him to see veins bulging under Clark's skin as the venomous radiation from the meteorite courses through Clark's body. God, Pete hopes it hurts as much as Clark always claimed it did. Pete took the rock away and Clark gasped in relief.

"How was Chloe's wedding?" Pete asked. It didn't go well, Pete knows. A monster had kidnapped Chloe and nearly killed her new husband before it took her god knows where. Pete tried calling Clark to find out what was happening but only got an answering service. Pete even tried Mrs. Kent, though he wasn't sure he'd get through. He was surprised and touched that his name got him a direct line to her. Mrs. Kent didn't have any news to give him, she couldn't reach Clark either.

Clark tried to sit up and Pete punched him in the face with the hand holding the meteorite. Clark collapsed as blood erupted out of his nose. "I heard there was a party crasher," Pete said, ignoring the shock of pain he felt in his hand when he hit Clark. The rock apparently didn't soften Clark's hide enough to make hitting him ouch-less.

"What do you want?" Clark managed to grit out through perfect clenched teeth.

"What do I want?" Pete had to be very careful now. He could hear the anger building in his words; he wasn't far from snapping right in two. "What do you think? I want to know why my best friend doesn't remember who I am."

Clark doesn't seem to react to Pete's words. Maybe it's the poison burning through his veins that obscures their meaning. Pete punched him again, because Clark's pain no longer inspires sympathy in Pete Ross.

"I will kill you. I want you to understand that, Clark," Pete said. "If you don't tell me what you did to Chloe and how to undo it, I will shove this rock right down your throat until you die."

It takes Clark an hour to tell the whole sad tale. If Pete hadn't started hitting Clark towards the end of it Clark might have finished ten minutes earlier. Clark is a portrait of bruises and blood and Pete's sure he's fractured his hands painting Clark's face.

"I always thought I was a loser," Pete said after Clark's accounting. He'd taken the rock off Clark's chest and leaned back in the rocking chair, rolling the jagged little rock from one hand to the other. "I thought I was one of those guys too chicken to tell the girl how they felt because he's afraid of rejection. Afraid to take one in the gut, you know? I figured I had an excuse—an out—because I knew Chloe only had eyes for someone else and he was this great guy, the best."

Pete looked at Clark who flinched—Clark expected another blow from a fist wrapped around Kryptonite. Pete kept playing catch though. "If I couldn't ever have her at least I knew she wasn't wasting her time on some creep who'd take advantage of her."

It was the truth. Even when Pete started hating Clark a little; jealous of Clark's powers and the way he always managed to lure Chloe's affections back to him even after all the times he broke her heart, however unwittingly. At the same time he resented Clark's growing friendship with Lex Luthor, who seemed to be taking Pete's place. Even though Clark never told Lex his secret, Pete knew if he hadn't found the spaceship, Clark wouldn't have told him either.

"Knowing your secret wasn't a burden to her, it was a sacred duty, that's how much she loved you, man. It almost broke me, it did break me in a lot of ways wanna know the truth, but Chloe—never. I tried to warn her about the danger," Pete chuckled, "but she eats danger for lunch, right? There was nothing I could say. What could I say? She had the world's best bodyguard watching out for her."

Pete caught the rock in one hand and rose up from the rocking chair. "You took her mind away, Clark. Think about that. You knew what happened to Chloe's mom and how scared she was of the same thing happening to her, and you went ahead and played God anyway!"

"I did it to protect her," Clark declared, his voice strong despite the pain the meteorite brought him.

"You did it so you wouldn't have to take responsibility!" Pete charged. "Chloe was willing to put it all on the line to help you but you—"

"You don't think it hurt to lose her?" Clark cried, his green eyes had gone watery, but Pete couldn't tell if it was from emotional distress or actual pain.

Pete was tempted to bash Clark's face in again. Who did Clark think he was kidding? Mr. Kent was dead and Mrs. Kent was gone so maybe Clark thought there wasn't anyone around anymore who could see through his crap. Clark was wrong.

"You didn't lose Chloe, Clark, you threw her away. And you know what? The worst part isn't that you don't realize that, the worst part is you think you did the right thing! When you told your Robo-Dad to wipe Chloe's memory I bet you were thinking what a noble sacrifice you were making!"

Clark's scandalized expression at Pete's accusation was almost comical. "That's not true! I love Chloe!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Pete decided he had enough talking; listening to Clark's self-pitying nonsense wouldn't bring Chloe back, the real Chloe. The Little-Miss-Know-It-All who was always quick to lash out with a sarcastic remark, but even quicker to deliver an infectious smile that could simultaneously make Pete's whole day and break his heart. He was not going to let the dull little thing that called herself Chloe Sullivan who sat next to her husband's hospital bed and smiled politely while she looked at him like he was a stranger exist one more day.

Pete slammed the meteorite down on the pillow, right beside Clark's head and watched Clark's expression collapse into agony. He leaned over until his and Clark's faces were inches apart. "Listen to me, Clark," he said, "I can't trust you so I created an email account that will send out an automated email to every major news outlet in the country. I think you can guess what's in the message. I know I don't have rock-solid proof but I put enough conjecture and circumstantial evidence in that email to get somebody curious enough to start looking at you."

There was no email. Of course there wasn't. As mad as Pete was he would never out Clark to the world. Too many people worth protecting would get hurt if Clark's secret ever was to become known. Pete was counting on eternal paranoia and fear—and the Kryptonite beating—to convince Clark not to take the chance Pete was bluffing.

"I don't care what you have to do to make Chloe right again, Clark, but you better do it or I swear you'll be laying on a government slab of Kryptonite in a week."


End file.
